North of Ireland.
A Ghost in Dungannon.
Dungannon, Thursday.
Some time ago we had a wonderful sensation about the Cookstown Ghost. Here we have had a visit of a somewhat similar nature. In Union-place, Dungannon, Mr Dickon has lived for upwards of forty years. He is now nearly eighty years of age. He and his niece live together. About ten days ago some strange occurrences took place – breaking windows in front of the house, which is a large two-storey, slated one.
Watch was kept night after night, and during this time panes of glass were broken, and no trace of any person could be seen who might be supposed to be the delinquent. Night after night it continued, and during the day the windows were repaired. Again at night they were broken. This proceeding has gone on for some time.
Some labouring men were employed for several nights to watch. They were unable to discern any human being, and yet the panes of glass were broken as usual. They at length tired, and now for several nights the constabulary have been watching. Some nights as many as eight in number have been engaged to watch, and, notwithstanding all their vigilance, some of them secreting themselves in gardens and lanes, they are unable to find out anything of how the smashing of panes is managed.
I have visited the place, and about nine o’clock last night I found four constables watching. I also visited it this morning, and found that glass had been broken during the night. In one window no less than six panes are broken. There are shutters on the inside, and no marks of any kind are to be seen upon them. It is hoped that some of your numerous readers will suggest some means by which this mystery may be solved. – Correspondent of the Belfast News.
Spiritualist, 10th September 1875.
A Ghost with a Purpose.
The good people of Dungannon are strangely “exorcised” by a supernatural visitant, whose freaks are as mischievous as they are distracting and incomprehensible. The spirit is either identical with or a near relative of one who some time ago astonished the people of Cookstown. In that locality he might have been called a “Young Ireland” partisan, for he took the part of a son against a father; but in Dungannon he assumed the role of a Tenant right patriot, and wages war against a landlord.
The story is alarming. If spirits, who are untrammelled by time or space, and to whom stone walls oppose no obstacle, take up the cause of the aggrieved tenant, Land Acts become the [?? illegible], and landlords had better come to terms with their adversaries while it is time, if, indeed, the latter, with such potent allies, condescend to treat with [illegible] at all. Why should a man pay rent, or obey any of the laws of property, if he can command the [?] of a champion more formidable than “Rory of the Hills,” whose vengeance is felt, though the [?] is invisible, and whom the most active detective cannot “run in.” The performances of his ghostship are gravely narrated by a Correspondent of the Londonderry[?] Standard.
It appears that a certain landlord and tenant dispute resulted in the former ejecting the latter; and on the eve of the day on which the tenant was thrust out, the ghost took possession of the premises, and is occupying them ever since. “Whatever may be the solution of the problem,” says the Standard, “one thing is certain, the invisible agent is acting the part of an avenging demon. Since his appearance he has not ceased to vent his fury, vengeance, and indignation in a very sensible form; and perhaps not the least wonderful phase of the matter is that he ceases action at night as mortals do, and commences his performances early next day. His movements are confined principally to smashing panes and throwing stones. The spot whence the stones proceed can be seen distinctly, but nothing can be seen throwing them. Several of the authorities were witnessing the ghost’s performance from a garden adjoining the haunted house, but the ghost, dislkiking the presence of the curious spectators, compelled them by a volley of well directed stones to beat a hasty retreat.”
Dublin Evening Mail, 17th September 1875.